


The Curse of Samhain

by EmmaTheRevelator (MaybeItWasMemphis), MaybeItWasMemphis



Series: A M.A.D. Universe [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Fluff, Paranormal, Romance, South Carolina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22629163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItWasMemphis/pseuds/EmmaTheRevelator, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItWasMemphis/pseuds/MaybeItWasMemphis
Summary: Angels, demons, mothmen...they exist. No one knows that though. An underground organization known as the Mothmen, Angel, and Demon Tracking Society (M.A.D.) keeps these creatures in check. Zane Griffin is a tracer for M.A.D who's been called to the small town of Rock Hill, South Carolina. Something is snatching kids, something that M.A.D. has never encountered before. Zane, along with his cousin Ryder, race to find the missing children in time while Zane finds himself drawn to one distraught mother in particular.REPORT FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: A M.A.D. Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628071





	1. M.A.D.

_“When witches go riding, and black cats are seen, the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween.”_

**\- Unknown**

“Ryder, Zane,” Jinx Morgan called out from his office. His Scottish laced, deep baritone voice sounded anxious. That was never good. “Can you lads come in here please?”

Ryder picked his head up off of his desk. His thin muddy-river hair was, as usual, a mess and his beedy baby blue eyes were tired and bloodshot. Clearly, he had been out drinking the night before. “Why do I have a bad feelin' about this Chewie?” His forever deep and low voice was raspy like he'd spent the previous night chain-smoking weed and cigarettes which, in all honesty, he probably had.

Zane closed the file he had been working on and used the rubber band around his wrist to his bleach-blond, shoulder-length hair up behind his head. Unlike his eternally fucked-up cousin, he was wide awake. “Just come on, dumbass.” While Ryder was his cousin the two of them were more like brothers. Both had been born into a family full of tracers. Both had been orphaned by the same car accident.

You are probably wondering what trackers are, aren't you? Well, tracers were highly trained men and women who monitored and all mothmen, angels and demons on earth. Angels and demons are self-explanatory. Everyone knows what they are. All you had to do was pick up a Bible and you knew pretty much all that you needed to know. Mothmen, on the other hand, were hardly known at all. Half angel and half-demon these creatures served as omens of impending doom to mortals and also functioned as what the average person would call grim reapers. Tracers worked for the Mothmen, Angel, and Demon Tracking Society (M.A.D.) and were an elite few. M.A.D. had been around for longer than anyone knew or could even trace. Some said God Himself had created the society to police both His Heavenly soldiers and Creation's abominations. A person could only become a tracer by being born into a family of tracers or by marrying one. The world didn't know M.A.D. Existed. Hell, the new liberal, 'enlightened' world thought angels, demons, and mothmen nothing more than fairy tales. It wasn't like they could hold job fairs.

Zane and Ryder slowly made their way to their boss' office.

“What's up boss man?” Ryder took a seat in one of the two expensive black leather winged-back chairs in front of Jinx's grand mahogany desk. The M.A.D. regional director had very expensive, very aristocratic tastes.

“Rock Hill, South Carolina. Six children have gone missing.” Jinx got right to it. “All six of the children were playing in the woods near Ebenezer Park when they disappeared. All of the children went missing in the last two weeks.” He passed Zane a print out of an online news article from the Rock Hill Herald.

“And why isn't this a job for the FBI?” Ryder raised an eyebrow.

“Because the mother of one of the missing children reported seeing a red flash of light just before hearing her son scream.” Red lights usually meant demon activity. “This woman was only standing about 20 feet away from the child but by the time that she got to the clearing where he had been playing, he had vanished. No blood, no sign of struggle. The boy had just disappeared into thin air.” Jinx passed Ryder a stack of police files. “The five other missing children all went missing while in the same park.”

“Okay, that's weird,” Ryder conceded. “Any guess as to what's going on, what demon's behind it?”

“Not a clue,” Jinx shook his head.

“Our best bet would be talking to this mom who saw the light,” Zane suggested. “What's her name?”

“Chloe Sanders. Her son, Frankie, is one of the missing,” Jinx replied and then nodded. “And I agree. You two should check it out. I'll get you your the usual police clearance”

“The Palmetto State here we come.” Zane clapped his hands together.


	2. Rock Hill

“You ready to hit the road or do you need to stop by your place first?” Ryder was shoving the case files and police records into his black backpack.

“I need to swing by my place.” Zane grabbed his brown leather jacket off the back of his chair. He really didn't need it. October in Memphis, Tennessee was usually comfortably warm if not a little wet. “I have a new book of demonology that I wanna grab and I want to switch out my Harley for the jeep.”

“Why?” As he always did, Ryder looked disgusted at the mere thought of a Harley motorcycle stuck locked up in a garage when the weather was so perfect.

Zane rolled his eyes as they headed for the stairs. “Because when we introduce ourselves as police consultants we wanna come across as professionals not extras from the set of 'Sons of Anarchy'. You can't ride yours either.”

“Dude...I really fucking hate you right now.”

***

_**TWO DAYS LATER** _

_**THE WHISPERING HILLS NEIGHBORHOOD** _

_**ROCK HILL, SOUTH CAROLINA** _

“Ryder, leave your damn tie alone,” Zane snapped at his cousin as they exited his old black jeep and began walking up the driveway of the plantation-style home.

“I can't help it, dude. I'm burning up.” Ryder pulled on the collar of his cheap suit. “Global warming's a myth, my ass. It shouldn't be this friggin' hot in October.”

Zane rolled his eyes as they climbed the porch steps. Ryder's personality seemed to wildly switch between a curious toddler and grumpy old man who wanted the neighbor kids off his lawn so often that Zane was desensitized to the crazy. Shaking his head, he rang the doorbell. It was one of those annoying bells that sounded like a church summoning people to its service. They could clearly hear it on the porch and Zane was pretty sure that the neighbors didn't miss it either.

When the heavy wooden door opened, Zane was surprised to be met with a woman who was much younger than he had expected her to be. She had long, curly brunette hair that was a complete mess and she had swollen and red-rimmed brown eyes. She looked like hell but it still didn't take away from the fact that she was a beautiful woman. “Chloe Sanders?” He was pretty sure they had the right woman but it was best to be sure.

“Yeah, that's me,” she nodded, protectively crossing her arms over her chest.

Zane flashed the consultant's badge that the Rock Hill Police Department had granted him just as a large black lab poked its head out the door. “My name's Zane Wells. This is my partner, Ryder Paulson.” M.A.D. rules required that they never give their real surnames or reveal the fact that they were related while working in the field. An organization like M.A.D. didn't stay secret by releasing its tracers biographies to the public. “We're working as consultants with the police department on your son's case. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your son's disappearance if that's alright?” He spoke to her as gently as he could. This wasn't his first demon rodeo and it, unfortunately, wasn't the first time that he had spoken to a heartbroken parent. He knew he had to tread lightly.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” she nodded and stepped aside. “Come on, please. Dementor, shoo,” she gently scolded the black lab. She led them through the deathly quiet hours and into a comfortable living room with worn-out furniture and a dated tube television set. She nodded for them to take a seat on the sofa while she sat in an armchair that had seen better days. “What do you need to know?”


	3. Chloe

“Ma'am, how old is your son?” Ryder was the one who started the questioning.

“Frankie's almost six,” Chloe answered as she pointed to a framed school photograph that sat on the fireplace mantel.

“Where is Frankie's father,” Zane asked. It wasn't unheard of for some desperate divorced parent to make a deal with a demon in order to get their hands on their kid. Demons only accepted one kind of currency...souls. Sure, in life you got exactly what you wanted but once you died you got a one-way ticket downstairs where you had a suite reserved for eternity. No take-backs allowed.

Chloe let out a rather unladylike snort. “Your guess is as good as mine. Ryan Hovis was a high school mistake that I haven't seen since the day Frankie was born.” Whoa. Bitter, party of this chick. “When Frankie went missing I reached out and tried to find Ryan. I figured he had a right to know,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I couldn't find him,” she shook her head. “Not even his momma knows where he is. He's been off the grid for years.”

That ruled out the father having anything to do with the kid's disappearance. Most absentee fathers don't make deals with demons for kids they didn't want in the first place. The history that she had just given also explained why Chloe looked so young. It was she was young. If she had been a teen mom, she couldn't be but twenty-one or twenty-two.

“Ma'am –”

“Chloe, please,” the young woman corrected.

“Chloe,” Zane began again. “Can you walk us through what happened when Frankie disappeared?”

Chloe licked her chapped lips before starting her story. “It was right around six in the evening. I had been late picking Frankie up from his after-school program because I was held up at work. I work as an assistant in Councilman Waters office and with an election coming up next month I haven't spent as much time with Frankie as I normally do. I wanted to spoil him a little and he loves the BBQ from The Dixie Pig –”

“Who doesn't,” Ryder rudely interrupted.

Zane's foodie cousin had found the restaurant not long after they had arrived in town the previous night. If Zane never again had to eat Carolina pulled pork it would be too soon.

Chloe just gave him an odd look before continuing on. “Anyway, we stopped here at the house to pick up Dementor while we waited on our order. We picked it up and headed to the park.”

“Ebenezer Park?” Zane always double-checked the information that was provided to them by the police of federal agencies. It was disturbing how many times their information was incorrect, made up, or missing entirely.

Chloe nodded. “Yeah. We had just finished eating and were taking a walk on the nature trail with Dementor when he slipped his collar in this clearing, not far from the water. I chased Dementor about fifteen or twenty feet before I was able to grab him. The only time I took my eyes entirely off of Frankie was when I bent down to refasten Dementor's collar. I saw this bright flash of red light out of the corner of my eye and heard my baby scream,” her voice broke and tears started to pool in her eyes. “When I looked up he was just...gone.”

“You didn't hear or see anyone else,” Ryder pressed. “What about the other missing kids? Did Frankie know any of them?”

“The only thing I saw was the rest flash of light and the only thing I heard was my little boy screaming.” Chloe had to take a deep breath and wipe the tears from her eyes before she could go on. “Rock Hill's a small tight-knit town. Everyone knows everyone here. One of the other missing boys, Aiden Matthews, is in Frankie's class at school. Billy Patrick and Chase Walker are in cub scouts with him. Lily Money and Ashley Rodriquez are the two girls from his Sunday School class that he says have cooties,” she gave a sad little chuckle.

While Chloe was speaking, Zane spotted a stack of newspaper articles that looked like they had been printed off the internet sitting on top of the coffee table. When he knew Chloe wasn't paying him any attention, he grabbed the top two articles off the stack and stuffed them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.


	4. Every 31 Years

“So, what do you think?” Ryder turned the key in the jeep's ignition. Zane knew the only way to avoid his cousin bitching about his driving was to simply let him take the wheel. 

“I think she knows way more than she's saying.” Zane waved the articles that he had stolen from the house. “These articles are about a rash of children's disappearances that happened over thirty years ago. Drop me off at the public records office. I want to look into this a little more. You go and talk to the rest of the parents. I'll take a cab back to the hotel.”

***  
Four hours later, when Ryder returned to the hotel and stopped by his cousin's room, it was to find Zane sitting at his suite's small table surrounded by internet print-outs, photocopies of police records, books on demonology, and handwritten notes. Let no one ever say that Zane didn't take his job seriously.

“Something's definitely wrong in Mayberry,” Zane said before the door had even closed. 

“I thought Mayberry was in North Carolina, not South,” Ryder looked confused. 

“Mayberry's not a real place, dumbass, focus, please.” Zane rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He could feel a headache coming on. 

“My bad, dude,” Ryder took a seat in the other chair, across the from Zane at the table. He reached into his suit jacket and extracted a pack of Pall Mall reds, lighting one up. Jinx was going to be pissed about the smoking fee they were going to incur but Zane didn't pick fights that he knew he couldn't win. Ryder was a stubborn redneck deep down to his core. Rules, like fire codes, didn't really mean shit to him. “What did ya find?”

“Six kids have gone missing from Rock Hill every thirty-one years, specifically every thirty-first October, for as long as the town's been keeping records.”

“How long they been keepin' records?” Ryder stood and grabbed a glass tumbler from the mini bar, filling it with about an inch of water from the sink, he brought it back to the table to use as a makeshift ashtray.

“Since the town was founded in 1852 when the railroad came through here,” Zane answered. “If you go down to the post office, you can still find missing person fliers hanging up for some of the kids who went missing back in 1988.”

“You think we have some kinda Stephen King, Pennywise the creepy fucking clown thing going on here? A demon that only hunts every so many years and only goes after kids?”

“Maybe, I don't know,” Zane shook his head. “What did you learn from the other parents?”

“No one else saw anything,” Ryder dropped his cigarette in the tumbler to extinguish it. “The only thing that stuck out was the time that all the kids went missing. Every single parent gave the time as six in the evening or close to six.”

Zane got to his feet. “Give me my keys.”

“Where are you going?” Ryder asked as he tossed him the keys.

“I think Chloe knows more than she's telling the police.” Zane shrugged into his suit jacket. “As long as she thinks we work for the police department she's not going to tell us a damn thing. I'm gonna go talk to her and tell her who we are, see if she'll tell me anything.” He headed for the door. 

“Zane, dude, you know Jinx hates it when you blow our cover! I'm taking his shit if you do this! You're on your own!” Ryder called after him but Zane was already gone.


	5. I Don't Work for the Police

Half an hour later and Zane was once again ringing Chloe's annoying as hell doorbell.

“Mr. Wells, what are you doing back here?” Chloe was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting blue sweatpants and an over-sized _Carolina Panthers_ football sweatshirt when she answered the door. 

“I need to speak with you and it can't wait,” he told her bluntly. “May I come in?”

Chloe's answer was to step aside and allow him entrance to the house. With Dementor hot on their heels, sliding a bit on the hardwood floors, she led him into her living room. She took a seat on the couch while he chose to stay standing. 

“My name isn't Zane Wells and I don't work for the police.” He watched as Chloe's hand started reaching for the cordless phone that sat on the wooden end table next to the couch. “Wait,” he quickly snatched the phone before she could get to it. “I'm not crazy and I'm not dangerous. I won't hurt you, I promise.”

“Wh-who the hell are you?” Chloe scooted a little further down the couch to put some distance between them. “What do you want?”

“I want to help you,” he told her soothingly. “My name is Zane Griffin. My partner that you met? That was my cousin, Ryder. We work for an organization that deals with things the police don't even know exist.” He reached into his back pocket and grabbed his wallet. He dug out hit M.A.D. identification card and held it out to her. “I don't know how religious you are but our job is to track and police angels, demons, and mothmen.”

Chloe reached out and took the ID. “I was raised Catholic and I do believe in God.” It sounded like she wanted to believe him but didn't want to believe him at the same time. “Does this M.A.D. place work for the Vatican or something?”

“God, no,” Zane shook his head. “Too many egos and too much paperwork. We do consult with them sometimes though.” When you needed a holy relic to take out a renegade angel or an overachieving demon sometimes you had to bite the bullet and call the Pope. Jinx even had the pontiff's personal cell phone number. “No one really knows how old M.A.D. is or who founded it. All we really know is that we've been around longer than the bible. We even have a signed first edition in our archives.”

“What's a mothman?” Everyone always asked that question.

“A demon/angel hybrid that was created by the archangel Gabriel to serve as beacons of warning for humanity.” He made sure to leave out the part where mothmen also served as grim reapers. That always seemed to terrify people. Why he would never understand. Death was a natural part of life. “The only real trouble we get out of them is when they go AWOL from their posts when they get bored.” The problem was usually solved by Jinx contacting Dearil, the head of the mothmen. Dearil usually reassigned the wayward mothman to a new, more interesting post and that was the end of that. “There's actually a mothman posted here on the coast. You probably know him as the Gray Man of Pawley's Island.”

“I've heard the legend,” Chloe nodded. “So, you're here because you think something...demonic or angelic is going on? Can you save my baby?” The sudden hope in her tone damn near broke Zane's heart. 

“We think something demonic is going on,” he confirmed. He reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And I can't promise you that I'll be able to save Frankie.” It was a sad reality that M.A.D. didn't always win, just like cops didn't always solve a case. “But I can promise you that I'll try my best and so will Ryder.”

“I don't understand why you're telling me all of this.” Chloe surprised him by squeezing his hand back.

“Because I saw the newspaper articles, Chloe. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you at least suspect that whatever took Frankie isn't human.”

Chloe slowly shook her head. “No, I don't think it's human. I think that something is very wrong here in Rock Hill but every thirty-one years the residents turn a blind eye and pretend that nothing's happening.”

Zane moved to sit beside her, keeping her hand in his. “What is going on here in Rock Hill, Chloe? Trust me, I can help you.”


	6. Kyle

Chloe ran a tired hand over her face before she spoke. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve heard what I thought were urban legends about Ebenezer Park. People say that there’s a doorway to another realm somewhere in the woods there. They say the doorway opens every thirty-one years. I wasn’t alive the last time kids went missing so I never really believed all the stories. When Frankie went missing, I started doing my own research. The more research I did, the more I started believing. Kids have been going missing from that park every thirty-one years for as long as history has been recorded here. The local Catawba Native American tribe even have a name for the dark realm, Namənda-Namənda.”

Zane moved to sit beside her on the couch. “What has your research turned up? Ryder and I are coming up pretty empty.”

“I found out that only one of the missing children was ever found – a boy named Kyle Jacobs. He was found wandering around Ebenezer Park on November 1, 1988. He was seven-years-old and had been missing since October third.” She reached over and grabbed a newspaper photograph from the makeshift coffee table and handed it to him.

The photograph showed a little boy with dark, wild hair. He was wrapped in a blanket and being carried by an EMT. On his face was a look of pure terror. It was a haunted look that Zane knew all too well. It was the look of a human being who had seen too much.

“What did Kyle tell the police? Where is he now?” He hadn’t come across any mention of Kyle in his research which he found incredibly strange.

“That’s the frustrating part,” Chloe huffed. “When I went to the police department and requested the file, I was told that it didn’t exist. The local papers had no articles about Kyle. I had to go three counties over to find the information that I do have.”

“This town’s covering something up.” Zane nodded. In her experience, when normal people were confronted by things they couldn’t understand and/or explain they closed their eyes, stuck their fingers in their ears and pretended that nothing ever happened.

“From what I was able to find out, Kyle and his family dropped off the face of the earth not long after he was found.” Chloe leaned back against the couch cushions. “I was able to get in touch with an old Catawba medicine woman. I have an appointment to see her tomorrow afternoon at three. I’m really hoping that she’ll know more about the legend.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Zane was quick to ask. “Honestly, Chloe, teaming up me and Ryder gives you your best shot at getting your son back.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “It’s not like I can go to the police with this,” she finished on a yawn that she tried to hide behind her hand.

“You’re exhausted. You should get some rest,” Zane told her gently.

“I can’t.” Chloe shook her head as a tear slid down her cheek. “Every morning since he learned how to walk, Frankie’s crawled into bed with me before the sun was up. I can’t sleep knowing that he won’t be there in the morning.”

Zane didn’t press the issue. He wasn’t a parent. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Chloe was going through, what she must be feeling. The young woman didn’t seem to have any family to speak of. Frankie was all she had.


	7. Dixie Pig

It was a little after nine when Zane arrived back at the motel. Carrying a bag of ribs and cornbread from the _Dixie Pig_ , he bypassed his room and went straight for Ryder’s.

Zane knocked on the door four times. “Dude, it’s me, open up!” Still, no answer. He knocked another four times. “I brought food.”

“What kind of food?” That got Ryder’s attention although his voice sounded half-asleep.

“Ribs and cornbread.”

“ _Dixie Pig_ or _Sonny’s BBQ_?” Ryder’s voice sounded more alert, and closer, like he was right on the other side of the red motel room door.

“ _Dixie Pig_ ,” Zane huffed, his patience wearing thin. “Open the fuckin’ door, man! We need to talk.”

Zane heard Ryder disengage the lock and unhook the chain before the door finally opened.

Zane could see that Ryder was looking a little rough. He was shirtless but he was still wearing his jeans, which were unbuttoned. He’d obviously had too many drinks before passing out. Ryder was very cliché from every after-school special that Zane had ever been forced to watch as a kid. Emotionally stunted, drunken redneck, party of Ryder.

Ryder didn’t say a word, he just snatched the takeout bag out of Zane’s hand before taking a seat at the small round table next to the window.

Zane joined his cousin at the table where he proceeded to fill him in as they ate. Well, Ryder ate. Zane tried to avoid watching as he did so to avoid having nightmares that night.

“Zane, are you sweet on this Chloe chick?” Ryder asked as he searched the internet on this laptop for any mention of Kyle Jacobs. “Why are you wasting your time on a medicine woman? You know as well as I do that most of them are frauds these days, preyin’ on gullible tourists and the stupid.” He still had barbecue sauce on his top lip, but Zane chose not to tell him.

“I know,” Zane nodded as he popped the top off his beer bottle. “But the Catawba tribe are the ones who first recorded encountering whatever the hell this thing is. They’re the ones who named it. Even if I just hear the original legend, it’s worth going.”

“Might be helpful,” Ryder shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “It’s not like we have much to go on. This Kyle kid’s a ghost, completely off the fuckin’ grid. Jinx’s callin’ in some favors to get a complete list of all the active angels and mothmen in the area. He’s even got a call in downstairs to learn the area’s demonic history and current activity but Rock Hill is clean as far as anyone can tell.”

Zane took a long pull off his beer as he thought about the situation for a moment. “Call Jinx in the morning,” he finally said. “Have him put in a call to the Vatican, get a list of all demons suspected of being on earth…even the ones that downstairs want to keep on the down low.”

“You know, you didn’t deny that you were sweet on the girl,” Ryder pointed out as he hacked into the South Carolina DMV in his search for Kyle Jacobs.

“Bite me, asshole.”


	8. Scared to Death

“Are you sure you want to go in?” Zane turned to look at Chloe from the driver’s seat of his jeep. He was parked on a gravel driveway. The driveway led up to a dull-grey trailer. Chloe’s Catawba medicine woman lived in a run-down trailer park on the outskirts of town. He didn’t feel comfortable letting the young woman go inside. “You can wait out here and I can tell you what she says.”

Chloe’s dark circles hard dark circles when she turned to glare at him. “She’s expecting me, Zane, not you,” she huffed as she got out of the vehicle. Her jeans and pink sweater with the words _Myrtle Beach_ written across the chest in white lettering were rumbled as though she had just grabbed the first wearable items out of the laundry hamper. Her curly hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and Zane highly suspected that Chloe hadn’t even bothered to run a brush through it. She was much more irritable than she had been the evening before. He was starting to get concerned that if she didn’t get some sleep soon, she would be headed for a full-on psychotic break.

“Alright, hon, my bad,” Zane told her as too exited the jeep.

As they walked up to the door, Zane had to breathe through his mouth to ignore the stench of the overflowing trash cans that sat in overgrown grass and weeds beside the trailer.

The old woman that met them at the door looked old enough to have gone to school with Abraham Lincoln. She had a permanent hunch when she walked and too many wrinkles to count. She had beady black eyes and feathers sewn into her hair. She led them through her cluttered and musty-smelling home and onto a wooden back porch that had seen much better days. In the center was a beat-up metal table that was protected from the summer sin by an umbrella that had holes in it.

“My name is Cecelia,” the old woman introduced herself as they all took seats. “And your son is still alive.”

“How do you know that?” Zane demanded. The last thing he wanted or needed was for some greedy old flake to get Chloe’s hopes up.

“The veil parts once every thirty-one autumns and the people of Namənda-Namənda hunt to please their leader, Chief Samhain. As long as the Catawba people have been on this land, Chief Samhain has ruled the dark realm.”

Zane took out his notepad from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and began to take notes. He’d already heard a few things that didn’t make sense to him.

“What does Chief Samhain want?” Chloe asked.

“His people draw their lifeforce from fear and young children are easy prey. Over the course of their enslavement, the people of Namənda-Namənda draw life from the children until the little ones are like them – monsters,” Cecelia explained.

“That means the kids are literally sacred to death.” Chloe seemed to almost collapse in on herself. “Oh my God, my poor baby,” she started to silently sob.

Zane wrapped his arm around Chloe’s shoulders in a vain attempt to comfort her. He looked at Cecelia. “Do you know of any way to stop him?”

Cecelia’s black eyes seemed to sparkle for a brief second. “You must find the one who got away.”


	9. Will the Real Samhain, Please, Stand Up?

Chloe appeared to be lost in her own head as Zane held open the jeep door for her to get in the passenger seat. The young woman stayed quiet as Zane pulled out onto the highway.

“Are you okay, darlin’?” Zane finally inquired, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“As okay as I’m going to get at the moment,” Chloe gave a humorless laugh. “I was just thinking…”

“Thinking what?” Zane prodded.

“What Cecelia said doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

So, Chloe had noticed what was wrong with the legend the old medicine woman had told them. Zane pulled into a rest area just outside of Rock Hill and killed the jeep’s engine.

“What part of the legend didn’t make sense?” He turned in the driver’s seat to look at her.

“Samhain isn’t a Native American name,” Chloe shook her head. “It’s either Irish or Scottish…I can’t remember which. Samhain was an ancient Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest season. Halloween evolved from that festival after the Scottish and Irish moved to America, bringing their traditions with them.”

Zane was truly impressed by the woman who was seated beside him. Sure, he had thought that Chloe was beautiful from the word ‘go’ but her appeal went way beyond the superficial surface. She was living her own worst nightmare, but she was keeping a level enough head and putting her considerate intelligence to work. Zane admired her strength and there was something about that same strength that provoked a protective response from him. Zane knew that he was already too emotionally invested in the case. He knew he should have called Jinx and taken himself off the case. That’s what he _should_ do, but there was no way in Hell he was going it.

“Actually, it’s both a festival and a dickhead Gaelic demon,” he corrected her slightly. “Either way, the name Samhain shouldn’t be in that legend.”

“Could that demon be what’s doing this?” Chloe reached up and pulled the hair tie from her hair, letting her admittedly messy hair fall down around her face. She used her fingers as a makeshift comb.

“Not a chance,” Zane assured her. “He’s currently accounted for in Hell. Ryder and I sent him back a few years ago.” They had escorted the smug, egotistical demon all the way up to the entrance of the Hell gate located in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. “That Samhain doesn’t target kids, just virgin females.”

“I’ll pretend that isn’t creepy as fuck,” Chloe mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard.

Zane couldn’t help but chuckle. He wouldn’t have thought that Chloe, the picture of a proper southern belle, would even know how to use the F-bomb. “Well, darlin’, what do you say we head over to my motel and see if Ryder had any luck finding Kyle Jacobs?” He restarted the jeep’s engine.

“Alright,” Chloe nodded before glaring at him. “And don’t call me darlin’.”


	10. Chapter Ten: Christmas Babies

“Am I glad to see you,” Ryder clapped his hands together as he met Zane and Chloe outside Zane’s motel room. “Oh,” his guard went up when he noticed Chloe’s presence. “Miss –”

“Chloe,” she interrupted him.

“Chloe.” Ryder gave her what passed for a friendly nod. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why?” Zane asked as he unlocked the door of his room and held it open for the two of them.

“I don’t have Frankie’s birthdate written down.” Ryder took a seat at the table. “Was he born around Christmas time?” He looked at Chloe, who was seated on the foot of the motel bed.

Chloe nodded. “December 21st. Why are you asking?”

“All of the missin’ kids, every single one ever, was born in the seven days before Christmas,” Ryder explained. “I called Jinx –”

“Our boss,” Zane clued Chloe in when she shot him a confused look.

“Anyway,” Ryder continued as though he hadn’t just been interrupted. “Jinx ran a search through the demon database and got a hit. The demon we’re dealing with is called a callicantzaro. It’s a vampiric demon that originates from Greece and feeds on the fear of children born around Christmas.”

“This is good news, right?” Chloe got to her feet. “If we know what it is, we can stop it.”

“It’s not that simple.” Zane shook his head grimly. “We need to focus on getting the kids back before we worry about the demon.”

“I think we need to be in that clearing at six tomorrow night,” Ryder put his two-cents in.

“I’m coming with you.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest as she stood next to the table.

“Like hell you are, darlin’,” Zane disagreed. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Did you forget that my son is one of the kids you’re looking for?” Chloe looked damn near ready to kill him. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can and can not do. And I told you before, don’t fucking call me darlin’.” Zane would later swear that she had actual fire in her eyes while she yelled at him. He didn’t take any real offense to it. She was a mama bear protecting her cub. He could respect and understand that.

Ryder got to his feet. “You know,” he started inching towards the door. “I think I’m gonna go get a drink while you two work this shit out.”

Zane and Chloe never even noticed Ryder leave.

“Chloe, me and Ryder can save Frankie and the other kids,” Zane continued to argue. “We’ve been doing this all of our lives. We know what we’re doing. Frankie needs his mom home and safe for when he comes back.” Zane didn’t know what was wrong with him, but the thought of Chloe in danger scared the shit out of him.

“Put yourself in my shoes, Zane!” Chloe stomped her foot.

“What about the fact that I don’t think you’ve gotten a wink of sleep since I met you?” Zane crossed his arms over his chest. “You think going against a demon exhausted is a good idea?”

“I’ll sleep tonight, I swear.” Chloe held up her hand like she was about to testify in court.

“You sleep here, with me, so I know you’re actually getting rest.” Zane compromised, although he sincerely didn’t want to.

“Deal,” Chloe nodded.


	11. Chloe Gets a Backstory

Zane left the motel room to pick up dinner, giving Chloe privacy to change into the t-shirt and sweatpants that he had loaned her. Before picking up a pizza from Luigi & Sons Italian Restaurant, he stopped off at a local drug store and picked up a toothbrush and an over-the-counter sleep aid. In case Chloe refused to take the pills, Zane stopped off at an ABC Store just over the North Carolina state line and grabbed a bottle of the highest proof whiskey that he could find.

When Zane arrived back at the hotel, he found Chloe sitting at the room’s dinky, round wooden table that sat next to the grimy window. She was swimming in his white t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants with her brunette curls hidden by the messy bun that she had pulled her hair into. If it weren’t for the worry lines and the frown on her face, Zane would say that she looked adorable…in a sexy sort of way.

Zane shook his head to rid himself of his highly inappropriate thoughts before getting Chloe’s attention. “Ya know,” he set the pizza and whiskey down on the table. “Lookin’ through that isn’t gonna do you a damn lick of good.”

“I know,” Chloe huffed as she closed the police file on Frankie’s disappearance. “There’s not a grain of truth in it. I work in politics. I know a cover-up when I see one. How often does this happen?”

“Hon, I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific,” Zane replied as he put slices of pizza onto the paper plate provided by the restaurant.

Spying the bottle of whiskey, Chloe got to her feet and grabbed two tumblers off of the mini-bar tray that sat on top of the small black mini-fridge.

“How often do police departments turn the other way and lie when weird things happen?” Chloe set the tumblers down on the table before proceeding to pour two healthy servings of whiskey. She handed on glass to Zane before taking a seat with the other.

“All the time,” Zane admitted. He put one plate in front of her before taking a seat across from her. “That’s where M.A.D. comes into play.”

Chloe simply nodded before taking a sip of her drink.

“May I ask you a question?”

Again, Chloe only nodded as she picked up a slice of plain cheese pizza and took a disinterested bite.

“Why are you all alone? Where’s your family? What happened with Frankie’s father?” Everything that Zane had been wondering came rushing out of his mouth.

Chloe gave a rather humorless chuckle. “That’s three questions,” she pointed out. “I don’t have a family,” she proceeded to answer. “My dad’s never been in the picture and my mom died in a car crash when I was three. After that I was raised by my grandfather, but he died when I was eighteen. Frankie’s dad was my high school sweetheart. We broke up when I found out I was pregnant when I was sixteen. He stopped by to hold Frankie once at the hospital the day he was born but I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Did I miss anything?”

‘Yeah,’ Zane thought. ‘You missed the senor M.A.D. tracer who has a bad feeling that he’s falling fast and hard for you.’

“Nah,” Zane shook his head. “You’re good, hon.”


	12. Screw Falling

“Zane,” Chloe argued. “Are those really necessary?”

“At this point…yeah,” Zane responded. “You just told me that you haven’t slept in three days.”

“I’ve had like three glasses of whiskey,” Chloe pointed out. “I think I’ll sleep just fine.”

“And these will just make sure of it.” Zane dropped the two blue pills into Chloe’s hand. “It’s basically just Benadryl, same main ingredient.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but she popped the pulls into her mouth, washing them down with the last of her whiskey.

“Bed, now,” Zane pointed.

There was only one bed in the room and Chloe noticed. “Where are you sleeping?”

“On the couch,” Zane nodded towards the older than oversized red loveseat that sat underneath the room’s only window. “You can relax, darlin’, I’m not a creep.”

“And yet you can’t seem to stop calling me ‘darlin’.” There was genuine humor in Chloe’s small little giggle. “And” she couldn’t seem to stop starting sentences with that word, “you’re twice as tall as that couch.” She was starting to slur her words a bit. The sleeping pills seemed to kick in quickly. “We can share the bed.”

“Are you sure?” Zane pressed her.

Chloe nodded. “I’m sure.” She proceeded to crawl into bed and get beneath the covers. “Besides, it might be easier to sleep knowing that I’m not alone for once.”

“Okay,” Zane conceded, trying to conceal how much her words had stabbed invisible daggers into his heart. His feelings were his problem, not hers.

While Zane normally slept in only his boxers, he opted for a grey pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt to avoid making Chloe uncomfortable.

He really needn’t have worried about Chloe’s feelings because when he exited the bathroom, he found her already asleep, the mixture of whiskey, medication, and total exhaustion knocking her out cold.

Zane tried to make as little noise as possible as he slipped into the opposite side of the bed. He knew God had to be testing his self-control when Chloe immediately rolled over to cuddle up to his chest in her sleep.

“Fuck,” Zane cursed.

Screw falling, he was now 99% positive that he was in love with Chloe.


	13. Made

Chloe was still sleeping when Zane awoke the next morning. The sun was just starting to make an appearance on the horizon when Zane carefully slipped out of bed. He wanted Chloe to sleep for as long as possible. It would give him enough time to catch up with Ryder and form a plan of attack for the evening’s trip to Ebenezer Park.

It was as he was in the bathroom, drying off after a shower, that the day’s plans got shot to hell, and the case took a strange turn.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“ZANE! MAN, OPEN THE DOOR!” Ryder hollered from outside

Zane quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before exiting the bathroom in a hurry. If his borderline alcoholic cousin was that awake this early in the morning, that meant something big had gone down.

Out in the bedroom, he found that Chloe was awake, big surprise with the noise Ryder had been making, and had let his cousin into the room.

“What’s going on?” Zane demanded.

“Frankie was found this morning,” Ryder explained. “He’s dehydrated and can’t seem to remember anything after his walk with Chloe, but he should be okay.”

“Where is he?” Chloe was gathering up her clothes so she could get dressed.

“They took him just over the state line to the Levine Children’s Hospital in Charlotte.” Ryder gave what passed for a warm smile from him. “He’s already asking for you.”

That was all Chloe needed to hear. Taking her clothes, she disappeared into the bathroom.

“Where was he found?” Zane grabbed his boots and sat down at the end of the bed to put them on. He already knew that he was Chloe’s ride to the hospital. If she didn’t ask, he was going to insist. “What about the other kids? Any sign of them?”

“An old man taking his morning walk in Ebenezer Park found Frankie wandering around in the clearing in a sort of gaze,” Ryder shared. “There’s no sign of the other kids.” He took a cigarette out of the pack in his back jeans pocket and lit it up.

“That’s weird.” Zane got to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I agreed,” Ryder nodded as he took a toke of his cigarette. “I think we’ve been made.”

Zane raised a curious eyebrow.

“This demon knows M.A.D. is in town,” Ryder shared his theory. “Why else would this think only release Frankie, the kid of the woman you’re sweet on? Think about it, man.”

Zane did think about it, and he didn’t like the conclusion that he came to. If the demon knew about him and Chloe…a human being had to be feeding it information.


	14. Promise Me

Chloe exited the bathroom wearing the same, slightly ruffled clothes as the night before.

Zane shot her a warm smile. “Go and get in the jeep. I’ll be right out.”

Chloe nodded, grabbing her purse off the nightstand and departing the room without a word.

Zane turned to look at Ryder. “While I’m gone, start paying visits to everyone we’ve come into contact with since we met Chloe.”

“I planned on it,” Ryder replied. “While you’re at the hospital, see if you or your girlfriend can get any information out of the kid.”

Zane glared at his cousin as he put his wallet in his back pocket and headed towards the door. “Don’t call her that.”

“Big fucking cry baby.” Zane ignored Ryder’s not very quiet grumbling as he left.

***

Chloe’s knee was bouncing up and down as she drummed her fingertips against the passenger side armrest.

“Darlin’, relax.” Zane reached over and took her left hand in his right, keeping his left hand on the wheel. He awkwardly interlocked their fingers. “You heard why Ryder said Frankie is fine.” He gently squeezed the hand he held.

“No offense to Ryder, but I’ll believe that only when my child is right in front of me and I’ve spoken to the doctor myself.” She seemed to get antsier as the Charlotte skyline came into view in front of them. “You can speed up, you know,” Chloe snapped. “Everyone goes like five or ten over the speed limit on this road.”

Zane was going exactly the speed limit but with good reason. Since they had arrived in the Carolinas, Ryder had racked up three speeding tickets. Jinx was going to be pissed when they got back to M.A.D. Headquarters and Zane didn’t want to get on his bad side by adding any more fines to the stack.

“Frankie needs his mom in one piece, sweetheart.” That was also, obviously, true. “You seriously need to calm down. You can’t let Frankie see you all worked up. Ryder said he doesn’t remember anything. You don't want to confuse the poor kid.”

Zane half expected Chloe to smack him, but she didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out. “You’re right. I’m sorry for biting your head off. This all just seems too easy and good to be true. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, something’s off,” he agreed. “But that’s for Ryder and me to worry about. You just need to focus on your son.”

“Promise me that you won’t freeze me out of all of this now that Frankie’s home.” Chloe shocked Zane by demanding. “My baby was kidnapped. I have the right to know why.”

Again, Zane squeezed her hand. “I promise, sweetheart.” He didn’t think he could freeze her out if he wanted to at this point.


	15. Councilman Waters

The children’s hospital in uptown Charlotte was larger and way more imposing than most suburban hospitals that Zane had seen. The hospital even had valet parking, so you didn’t have to waste valuable time trying to navigate the many parking garages.

Once inside the brightly colored hospital, they were informed that Frankie was being admitted, but only for a single night.

“Physically, Frankie appears to be completely healthy. We have him on his second bag of saline, and he is now out of the danger zone.” The doctor was a young man with a sunny disposition. Zane figured you had to have a friendly bedside manner working with sick children and their families.

“What about the memory loss?” Zane put his hands on his hips. “What’s causing that? Is it permanent?”

“And who exactly are you?” Dr. Happy gave him an inquiring but still friendly look. “Does he have your permission to know Frankie’s medical history?” He turned to look at Chloe.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Zane smirked when Chloe’s shocked eyes shot to look at him.

Chloe visibly gulped before turning back to the doctor. “Yes, he has my permission.” She lowered her voice so that only Zane could hear as the doctor waved down a nurse to get Frankie’s chart. “We are having a _long_ ,” she stressed the word, “talk later.”

Having not heard a word that Chloe had said, Dr. Happy (okay, his real name was Dr. Stenson) finally answered Zane’s question. “Frankie suffered no injuries to his head as far as we can tell. We’ve found no traces of drugs in his system showing that he was sedated at any time. I think the memory loss is most likely psychological. Frankie can’t remember because he doesn’t want to remember. There’s no way of knowing if the amnesia is permanent. Don’t push him to remember. It would do more harm than good at this point.”

“Can I see him now, _please_?” Chloe was damn near pleading now.

Dr. Stenson gave them directions to Frankie’s room on the second floor. Chloe was gone the minute the doctor was done speaking.

“Thank you,” Zane offered quickly and then had to jog to almost catch Chloe. He arrived at the elevator just as the doors closed. He was forced to take the stairs.

By the time Zane caught up to Chloe, she had her young son wrapped up tightly in her arms. Zane wanted to be annoyed at her for ditching him and forcing him to endure a mini cardio workout, but he couldn’t find it in him. Chloe was nothing if not a fierce and loving momma bear, and it made Zane happy to see her reunited with her cub. The little boy looked very tired but very content to be back in his mother’s arms.

Zane chose to stand back and give the two of them alone time when he noticed a gift basket sitting on the hospital chair that was back against the wall. The gift basket was full of candy and Hot Wheels cars. Bending down, Zane read the card propped up inside the basket.

_*** Get well soon, Frankie!_

_Sincerely,_

_Councilman Waters. ***_


End file.
